Guiltless
by BashirXena
Summary: An unusual assassin makes an attempt on Julian's lifeand during the investigation he finds out the assassin is more interesting than he may have thought.
1. An Attempt

Here's the deal with this story: it's a joint project with me and my friend. I came up with the idea, and my friend, Jenn, wrote it. So most of the credit is hers, but she let me post it. Leave a review for me and if e-mail Jenn at jhenry@mailandnews.com. I'm really proud of the job she did!  
  
Julian Bashir fought desperately, ducking behind the meager shelter of his hypospray counter. God, he wished he'd had more hyposprays. It might have saved him getting that nasty phaser burn across his backside.  
  
The situation looked bleaker than ever as a big group of Jem'Hadar soldiers stormed the medbay, angrily wielding weapons that could inflict injuries Julian didn't want to think about. He counted ten soldiers before he decided he needed to modify his approach. One tiny hypospray counter was not going to   
hold off the enemy-big, bulky, angry enemy that it was-for long.  
  
Julian weighed his options. He looked left to an air vent guarded closely by a Cardassian. Not good. He looked right to the doorway, blocked by three Jem'Hadar. Not good, either. He looked up into the barrel of a phaser, and something told Julian that phaser wasn't set for stun.  
  
"Any last words from the good doctor?" Julian was shocked to hear the smarmy voice of a friend… a good friend… in fact, Garak.  
  
"Garak," his voice trembled, "you don't have to do this. Garak, I'm your friend. Garak, I-"  
  
The phaser fired. The force knocked him back and Juilan awoke with a convulsive jerk. Unable to do anything else, Julian just sat, digesting what had just happened and mulling over the possible meanings of his dream. These dreams really had to stop. It was the third one he'd died in since he'd gone to bed at 2300hrs. He blamed it on the Holosuite visit he'd made earlier that night. Comforted by a resolution to stay out of Quark's for a week, Julian placidly drifted off.  
  
Another dark, sinuous feeling clouded Julian's awareness. "Here we go again," he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. In this dream it was completely dark. He was lying in his quarters when he sensed a presence in the room. Knowing it was only a dream, Julian called unafraid for the lights, steeling himself for whatever might appear under the fluorine glow. He was surprised to see a rather small, slender form, dressed classically in black. "As if that would hide him," Julian thought sarcastically. "He at least might have come up with something clever like an individual cloaking device."As Julian's eyes adjusted, he realized the intruder was not indeed male, but female; the rather form-fitting bodysuit revealing gracefully toned muscles.   
  
She held a silent phaser in one hand midair, as if surprised by being discovered. Of course, he couldn't really tell because the mask she wore obliterated any facial expression.  
  
"Really, darling," Julian soothed as he removed the phaser from her stiff hand, "you're not very good at this game, are you?" The assassin, still too shocked to move, did not react. "Come now," Julian surprised himself with his suavity, "did you really expect to win me over by waving a phaser in my face?   
A simple hello is quite a bit easier." Julian tapped his comm badge.  
  
"Bashir to security-recently disarmed intruder in my quarters." The girl still made no attempt at movement. Bashir began to wonder if she wasn't really a catatonic schitzophrenic. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. It was warm, and it felt disconcertingly real. In fact, nothing around him seemed   
very dreamlike at all. Julian's blood ran cold. My God, this wasn't a dream at all, was it? He was very aware of his left hand holding the phaser that might have killed him, and his right hand on the shoulder of the girl that might have killed him with it.  
  
Luckily, a security team relieved him of both phaser and assassin before he could flop back on his bed in proper shock. Miles must have come in with the security team, because the comforting bulk of his friend sitting next to him gave him something to focus on.  
  
"Miles… I really thought she was a dream. I could have gotten myself killed and I would have thought it was all a dream. I don't know whether to be embarrassed or thankful or…"  
  
"…shocked?" Miles supplied with a grin. "Well my question is why on Earth someone would want to assassinate you, eh? Got any ideas on that point?"  
  
Julian only shook his head slowly. "None whatsoever."  
*  
  
Julian sat pensively in front of Commander Sisko's desk.  
  
"Now Doctor," the Commander began. "You do understand the reason I've brought you here."  
  
Julian nodded.  
  
"I only thought it fair that you should know as much as possible about the people   
  
who tried to assassinate you."  
  
Julian gave a wry smile.  
  
"The assassin we found in your quarters last night was a female."  
  
Julian nodded again.  
  
"She was part of the Baxqau."  
  
"Professional assassins for hire, yes, I've heard of them." Julian wondered what was taking the commander so long to get to the point.  
  
"Well, doctor… I won't beat too long around the bush. What's really bothering me is the fact you managed to stop her."  
  
Julian squinted. "So you're most concerned that I didn't die?"  
  
"Yes, doctor. The fact you managed to stop one of the best assassins in the quadrant bare-handed is very disturbing to me."  
  
Julian took a deep breath. He was going to have to tell the commander the whole embarrassing truth, wasn't he? "Well, sir… you see, at the time I was convinced it was a dream. That certainly affected my clear judgment at the time. I just walked over to her and took the phaser out of her hands,   
unafraid. She didn't move a muscle, sir."  
  
Sisko hid a smile by sighing and coughing. "That poor assassin! Can you imagine being confronted by a target that was absolutely unafraid of you?" he muttered to himself.  
  
Julian forced a smile. "It must have been quite a shock, yes."  
  
The commander coughed again. "Well, the assassin is in the maximum security brig under full watch. I've decided to relieve you of duty for the next two weeks. You will be assigned guest quarters with a guard posted around the clock. And Bashir… I won't go so far as to put you under house arrest, but   
please, do be careful."  
  
*  
  
Julian puttered aimlessly around in the guest quarters. Oh sure, he had a replicator and a *comm badge and his PADD…but he felt entirely useless pacing around his quarters like a caged lion. What if someone wandered in half-mangled and needed his expert surgery? What if Keiko needed a babysitter?  
What if someone attacked the station and all he could do was sit there being helpless instead of being on the bridge or in the medbay where he ought to be?  
  
Sighing, he slumped onto his bed and felt sorry for himself. He listlessly picked up his PADD and tried to read through the latest medical journals, but he soon tired of that and discarded the PADD like the useless bit of wires it was.  
  
Luckily, his door chimed. Desperate for company and confident in the security guards, Julian opened it without question. It was Jadzia Dax.  
  
"Jadzia!" Julian cried gratefully.  
  
"How are you holding up?" She smirked, knowing the answer before she asked.  
  
"Terribly. I'm so desperately bored. But now you're here, and you can entertain me!"  
  
She laughed at the bleakness in his eyes. "Julian, you know I can only stay until I go back on duty at 1400 hrs," she said carefully, not wanting to drive him deeper into insanity.  
  
He answered quite seriously, "I don't care. Any relief is profoundly welcome."  
  
Jadzia smirked again.  
  
It was only a matter of time before Julian asked her about the infirmary.  
  
"It's surviving. Dr. Anaya is doing all she can to keep it together."  
  
Julian got up. "I am so bored!" He paced restlessly. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be kept prisoner in guest quarters? I'd almost rather have been killed! This is madness! This is torture!"  
  
Jadzia only raised an amused eyebrow. A few moments later, she brushed off her uniform and stood.  
  
"No. Oh no, Jadzia Dax, you are not allowed to leave now!"  
  
She smiled evilly. "Watch me!" She sprinted to the door, barely dodging his grasp.  
  
"Jadziiiiiiiaaaaa!" came the haunted cry of a man bored out of his wits.  
  
"I'll send Chief O'Brien to look in on you as soon as he finishes his shift!" a distant voice echoed. Julian could just see the maddeningly mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  
  
"Computer," Julian called, waiting for a beep of acknowledgement, "What time does Chief O'Brien go off duty?"  
  
"1430 hrs," the computer declared flatly.  
  
Half an hour…the torture was unimaginable. He had to wait an entire half-hour for any human contact whatsoever! He couldn't stand it. He simply could not take another thirty minutes of this imprisonment! Having reached his last straw, Julian decided to venture out of his quarters for a nice little walk to the replimat. He still hadn't put Tarkalean tea in his replciator's database and he had been hankering for a nice steaming hot cup since daybreak.  
  
The security guards looked up, not a bit surprised to see him. He'd tried to make conversation with them about an hour earlier and the guards had been just waiting for him to crawl outside, having gone nearly insane.  
  
"I'm going on a walk," Bashir declared calmly.  
  
One of the guards nodded passively. "Would you like one of us to accompany you, Doctor?"  
  
"No, no," he waved them off, "I'm only going to the replimat for a cup of tea."  
  
  



	2. The Meeting

  
  
Julian strolled purposefully toward the Promenade, but he felt something inexplicably drawing him to the brig. He'd had ample time to ponder the attempt on his life, and he suspected this was nothing more than a normal reaction formation, a textbook case in fact. He combated the anxiety caused by fear of his own assassination by becoming obsessed with it.  
Only minutely comforted by this diagnosis, he knew he had to physically go down to the brig and see her - that was all there was to it. Classic solution to a classic case. After his fear was raised to an intolerable level by confrontation of the enemy, tension would be released and Julian would be free   
once more from sleepless nights and anxiety.  
Turning resolutely toward the brig, Julian comforted himself by remembering all he'd ever learned on the subject of implosion. It was something considered as barbaric as bloodletting, but effective nonetheless.  
"A phobic patient is placed in a situation in close proximity with his fear, and as his anxiety level reaches unacceptable, the fear is suddenly released and all is well again," he quoted aloud from his high school psychology course.  
His steady pace brought him to the brig all too soon. Without stopping, Julian requested (and was subsequently granted) permission to see the prisoner. Being a senior officer certainly had its benefits. No one would ever suspect him of anything peculiar. As chief medical officer, too, Julian had often been called down to the brig to examine prisoners. These prisoners were mostly of unknown species, or at least they looked ill enough to call a doctor.  
The prisoner, neither ill nor foreign looking, looked up as she heard the first of four force fields being lifted. It was probably that commander again, or even worse, that Bajoran first officer or the changeling security guard. By the time she heard the third force field being lifted, she'd ascertained that   
it was a male, slender in frame, probably about 177cm tall. Before the door to her cell opened, she knew it was Julian.  
"Hello, Doctor Bashir," she said quietly enough to disconcert him. She sat with her back toward him, facing the wall.  
"Hello, Aliesa Retspan, if that's who you really are." Julian paused as the door slid shut behind him, a mark of finality ringing metallically as the minute force resonated through the nearby Cardassian architecture.  
"So let me cut straight to the point," Julian began, choking down his fear. "Who sent you to kill me?" Funny, she didn't look like a killer from the back of her. In fact, the only thing about her short, subtly soft form that moderately suggested anything out of the ordinary was her fiery red, waist-length hair. It hung down loosely, hopelessly unkempt, but striking all the same.  
"I have nothing to tell you that they probably haven't told you already," her voice cracked icily.  
"Well, that makes conversation a bit difficult then, doesn't it?" Julian retorted. "Why don't we start with your name? I'm Julian Bashir. I'm sure you knew that much already. And you are Aliesa Retspan, I presume?"  
She shrugged her shoulders casually. "If you'd like. OR I could also be Nerissa de Rossi, or Veronica Legado…I suppose you want my real name, though." She paused. "Lena Martin." Her voice softened, having muttered this last declaration in such a way that convinced Julian of her honesty.  
"Hello, Lena," he replied quietly. "Where are you from? I'm from Earth, on a little island called-"  
"You're from Sussex in Great Britain…your address was 23 Bennet Close and your room faced the South so it got a lot of sunlight," Lena interrupted calmly. "I know everything about you."  
Julian said nothing. After all, what could you say to someone who knows everything about you?  
"Your parents were Richard and Amasha; you're an only child, you were born in 2341…Jung says you're an INFP, and you like Tarkalean tea."  
This was starting to creep Julian out. Sure, his parents' names, his birthdate, his previous address; even his Jungian personality type would be public knowledge. But the fact that she knew he liked Tarkalean tea…it was well known around the station, but elsewhere who would care enough to know? An assassin, he answered himself wryly. It made him wonder what other things she knew-and this worried him.  
"Oh, and about your little 'secret?'" she asked, as if she could read his mind. "I know about that, too. But don't worry, I won't tattle on you. After all, birds of a feather flock together." She smiled smoothly to the back of the wall.  
Julian's blood ran cold. Of course she didn't know about StarFleet's investigation on him; that had been covered up so that not even most of the cabinet knew about it. But she had known about the genetic engineering, and lord knows who she'd told. His place in StarFleet was already precarious, and he didn't want to knock it off-balance with some stupid assassin. Angry, he called for the guard.  
Lena made no move as he left, still silently facing the back wall.  
  
*  
Julian sighed, tossing and turning in bed. He'd missed Miles O'Brien's visit; the only activity he'd participated in since 1500hrs was thinking about Lena. What did she mean, "birds of a feather flock together?" Obviously she knew a lot about him, frighteningly so, but he knew nothing about her. Had she been genetically engineered, too? And why did she seem so smoothly guiltless?  
Disentangling himself from his sheets, he dressed and moved to the doorway. He smiled at the security guards, engaging in a heated discussion of Klingon philosophy. They stopped, embarrassed, to acknowledge him. "Hello, Doctor Bashir."  
"Hello, Moore and Aphlan. I'm just going to stop in at the replimat for some Tarkalean tea."  
The two lieutenants smiled and nodded. They knew as well as anybody how much Bashir liked that tea.  
It was only a few minutes before Julian found himself talking to the security guard. Luckily, this was a different shift and the guard would not have known that he came to visit that afternoon. Wordlessly, the guard opened the force fields, then the door, leaving Bashir to talk with the prisoner.  
She sat facing him this time, her back resting easily against the wall.  
"Don't you ever sleep, Doctor Bashir?"  
"Don't you?"  
Lena smiled sweetly. "I don't need to, not much, anyway. My brain is advanced enough to know how to rejuvenate itself without requiring eight wasted hours."  
"I don't know whether to call you lucky or cursed," Julian replied coolly.  
"Me neither, actually." She seemed like she was in the mood to talk, maybe even about herself. Julian jumped on the opportunity.  
"So how old were you when you stopped requiring sleep?"  
Lena smiled again, as if she knew exactly what Julian was up to. Even so, she answered, "I was about 12."  
"Really?" Julian asked, truly surprised. "I'd have thought you'd have passed the ideal age for operation by then."  
Lena shrugged. "Anything is possible for desperate parents with money."  
Julian chuckled dryly. "I do know that much."  
Sighing and picking at a fingernail, Lena continued unprompted. "Of course they abandoned me right after the operation. They wanted a very specific level of intelligence, you know. They wanted a pliable mind to be their young protégé, but not one that exceeded their level. The master is always uneasy when the pupil surpasses him. Once I explained Mehz's theories of alternate universes to them, they decided it was over and they just dropped me."  
Not wanting to interrupt her sudden burst of talkativeness, Julian just hoped his silence would be perceived as sympathetic.  
"I wandered in and out of institutions and foster homes…nobody really wanted me. It's amazing, but people only truly love the ones that need them, and of course I didn't need them. It wasn't my job to make them feel important. I could pretty well fend for myself."  
She paused again.  
"Then Dreuer found me." She stopped, as if expecting him to know who Dreuer was. When he made no sound of acknowledgement, she continued. "Dreuer heard I was good with numbers, so initially he picked me up to throw off his losing streak. I helped him win 16 bars of gold pressed latinum before he suspected anything strange about me. I told him everything. Everything…  
"He threatened to kill me if I told anyone else. Then he brought me to this dark basement and cut my head open. I couldn't even scream because they'd shoot me if I did. They didn't use any anesthesia because they told me, 'you can't feel your brain,' but I felt it. I felt it all the way from the first incision they made through my forehead to the last stitch they sewed. I looked like a monster. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. They shaved off all my hair and I had this huge scar running all the way around the top of my head, from my forehead to my parietal sutures."  
This was slowly beginning to make sense to Julian. She was genetically engineered far too late as a child, and her parents had left her because they were in way over their heads. That Dreuer had found her and he'd removed her frontal lobe. It was the ideal combination of mental alteration. Without a frontal lobe she could feel no remorse, no guilt. She was the perfect assassin.


	3. Hope

  
  
"He threatened to kill me if I told anyone else. Then he brought me to this dark basement and cut my head open. I couldn't even scream because they'd shoot me if I did. They didn't use any anesthesia because they told me, 'you can't feel your brain,' but I felt it. I felt it all the way from the first incision they made through my forehead to the last stitch they sewed. I looked like a monster. I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. They shaved off all my hair and I had this huge scar running all the way around the top of my head, from my forehead to my parietal sutures."  
  
This was slowly beginning to make sense to Julian. She was genetically engineered far too late as a child, and her parents had left her because they were in way over their heads. That Dreuer had found her and he'd removed her frontal lobe. It was the ideal combination of mental alteration. Without a frontal lobe she could feel no remorse, no guilt. She was the perfect assassin.  
  
Suddenly, Lena withdrew. "Not that you care, anyway."  
  
Julian assured her that he did, but further attempts at conversation all failed. He supposed he'd better just go back to his quarters and think for a while.  
*  
  
Julian sat across from Commander Sisko, feeling instinctively thoughtful as he sat in this chair. The contemplative chair, he chuckled to himself. He eyed the baseball sitting on the desk, momentarily tempted to play a game of catch with himself. Luckily, the commander turned around in his chair just then and   
prevented him.  
  
"Doctor," he greeted him. "What can I do for you today?"  
  
"Well, sir...I'd like the charges on Aliesa Retspan dropped."  
  
Sisko raised a skeptical eyebrow.  
  
"Please, sir, just give me a chance to explain. I ran some tricorder scans on her and I found something quite interesting. She has no frontal lobe."  
  
Sisko's skeptical eyebrow lowered and his surprised eyebrow rose.  
  
"I questioned her about it, and she informed me that she had been the victim of a   
terrorist biological manipulation. Having had her moral center removed in her frontal lobotomy, she would be an ideal assassin. And, according to her story, that's just what they used her for." Bashir deliberately left out the genetic enhancements. This was a shaky enough proposal as it was without even more illegal biological manipulation thrown in.  
  
"Get to the point, Doctor." Sisko's voice grumbled quietly, like a thundercloud in the distance.  
  
"Well, I believe I can regenerate her frontal lobe." Bashir continued quickly before Sisko had a chance to protest. "It would be better than sending her off to work on Kessel. Besides, I really think I have a chance at making this work."  
  
"What do you think Starfleet will have to say to that? 'You think you can solve biological manipulation with more biological manipulation?' I know I don't need to remind you that your own current state is not adding a positive note to this request."  
  
"There's nothing else we can do! We can't let a crazed guiltless assassin run loose, but at the same time we can't punish her for something that isn't her fault."  
  
Sisko sighed softly. "You know how long it takes Starfleet Command to get anything done. You'd put in your request, but it would be years before the board would be done with the processing and reviewing and full examination of the patient...meanwhile you're no better off than when you started."  
  
"You see sir, I was sort of hoping we could bypass Starfleet Command on this one."  
  
Sisko's glance boded no good Bashir-ward.  
  
"Commander, there's something I haven't told you that perhaps I should. Aliesa Retspan not only lacks a frontal lobe, she's also genetically enhanced."  
  
Sisko's lips twisted into a heavy grimace. His eyes were cast upward, lamenting his unfortunate chance in crew assignment. He sighed hopelessly, praying this wouldn't end as badly as he knew it would. "All right, Doctor. But one word of this to anybody and the whole deal is off. You're to clear every move with me, got it?"  
  
Bashir nodded solemnly, quelling a cry of delight.  
  
"Just one more thing before you go. Doctor, have you even asked the subject if she wants this operation? Without her cooperation, not to mention permission, this whole thing would blow up in our faces."  
  
"I haven't yet, sir, but I'm confident she'll accept once I've explained it to her. After all, she did fail this time, right? She must not really have wanted to kill me."  
  
There went Sisko's skeptical brow again. "All right, Bashir. Keep me informed."  
  
Bashir nodded and smiled ingratiatingly. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret this."  
  
Sisko sighed doubtfully as his ready room doors slid shut. Oh, what a job this was.  
*  
  
  
Bashir made his third appearance in the brig that afternoon. He'd had ample time to review the schematics he'd drawn himself in preparation for the operation. He just hoped they would help to convince the assassin to accept.  
  
"Hello, Lena," he said warmly to the figure facing the wall.  
  
She turned and gave him a smile so brilliant that he was almost knocked back by the force of it.  
  
"Julian!" she exclaimed, moving in as close as she could. She came within an inch of the force field. "I'm so glad to see you!"  
  
Julian smiled warily. This was certainly a pleasant change, but still it discomfited him.  
  
"I'm happy to see you, too. Actually, I have a proposal to make to you."  
  
"I do," Lena's eyes sparkled mischievously as she giggled. "What is it?"  
  
Julian forced a courtesy chuckle. "I think I may be able to help you. You see, I've come up with a way that quite possibly would regenerate your frontal lobe.  
  
Her expression darkened. "No," she said, voice remaining pleasant.  
  
"No? Why ever not?"  
  
"I just don't want to. You can't do it if I don't want to do it."  
  
Bashir had a thought. Throwing the Hippocratic oath and his better judgment out the window, he answered, "Oh yes I can."  
  
Lena looked genuinely shocked. "But...what about...you're not supposed to!"  
  
"Obviously you know very little of Federation principles concerning assassination attempts. The assassin is automatically made a top candidate for biological experimentation, with or without his or her express permission."  
  
Lena eyed him uncertainly. Of course, she really didn't know very much about principles concerning assassination attempts. She'd never before had a chance to find out about what happened to people who unsuccessfully attempted assassination.  
  
"So why did you even come here to ask me about it?" Lena asked angrily.  
  
"Patients who are willing to cooperate often have a higher rate of success, that's all. That and I'm bound to do a better job knowing the patient wants the operation."  
  
Lena sighed. "The truth is, I've always wanted to have this operation...more than anything. I just don't think I could cope with the guilt afterwards."  
  
"I'd help you," Julian whispered sturdily.  
  
"I know," Lena chirruped nonchalantly. "I don't think you'd be much help, though."  
  
"Oh," Julian answered disconcertedly. "Well, we have Counselor Jordan. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help you. Lena...please. I really think this could help you. I'm sure it would. You could go free and go back to living a normal life."  
  
Lena made a sarcastic sound. "Normal? Not with Dreuer trailing me, I couldn't."  
  
"We could figure something out. You'd be welcome on the station for as long as you wanted to stay. Please. For me?"  
  
"Okay," Lena shrugged. "I'll do it. Not that it makes any difference what I say, but I'll do it."  
  
"Oh, Lena!" Julian cried, enraptured. "It means everything in the world! Thank you! I'll go clear it with the commander right away and then we can get started."  
  
Lena smiled wanly, then nodded.  



	4. transformation

  
  
Bashir tripped ecstatically around the infirmary, preparing the operating table as he hummed a merry tune. This is what he'd become a doctor for -- he was helping the hopeless, making the universe a safer place, and possibly most of all, he was operating on a beautiful woman. Of course, that woman in his vision probably had a conscience and needed only a minor operation, but Bashir couldn't be choosy. This was a challenge that he would enjoy.  
  
He'd relieved all the auxiliary medical staff the second Sisko had given him permission. He wanted to do this as soon as possible. He'd arranged for a site-to-site transport, Sisko explaining it away to the young ops ensign by saying that the prisoner had a minor strain of influenza and was too sick to be moved. God, he hoped Bashir didn't slip up.   
  
Bashir tapped his comm badge, surveying the infirmary one last time. "Bashir to ops. Ready for prisoner beam-in."  
  
"Ops to Bashir. Stand by."  
  
Lena shimmered into matter just in front of him. She blinked surprisedly and looked around her in bewilderment.   
  
Bashir stepped back a foot or two from her before he said, "Welcome to the infirmary."  
  
Lena continued to look around, her expression blank. "You might have warned me."  
  
"Sorry about that." Bashir chided himself inwardly. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Way to earn her trust, doctor. He grabbed her hand gently, hoping to rebuild some of that trust. "I hope I didn't frighten you too badly."  
  
Lena smiled, her eyes focused on him, her hand limp in his. "It was actually kind of fun."  
  
Bashir smiled back, dropping her hand. "Well, I'm glad." He paused uncomfortably. "It's about time we were getting started. Would you like me to explain the procedure beforehand?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, thanks."  
  
He pretended to arrange his instruments one last time. "Well, whenever you're ready, go ahead and take a seat over there." He indicated the monstrous, metallic looking bed in front of him. She slowly walked over to it, her fingers trailing along the edges, her gaze that of a convict walking along death row.   
  
"Lena.." Her raw and frightened gaze startled him. "Do you really want to go through with this?"  
  
Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Lena searched for her answer. "Yes," she answered, a ring of finality in her voice. "Yes, I do." She pulled herself into the bed, her gaze focused on the ceiling.  
  
Bashir came over to her, anesthetic-charged hypospray in hand.  
  
"I'm scared," she whispered.   
  
Attempting to comfort her, he held her arm with his free hand and bent down to kiss her cheek. "I won't hurt you."  
  
Smiling, she gently answered, "I know." Her gaze turned dark. "I'm just afraid of what I'll do to myself."  
  
"You'll make it, Lena. I'll make sure you do."  
  
"You really do care about me, don't you? If only you knew what a monster I am."  
  
"You're no monster, Lena. You do have a medical… condition, but that by no means makes you a monster. And besides, I'm not friends with monsters," Bashir finished with an easy grin.   
  
"Maybe you won't always think that. Maybe the minute I regrow a moral center, I   
become a monster of my own guilt." Lena sat up suddenly. "Promise me you'll still care about me?"  
  
Bashir nodded slowly. "Of course."   
  
Relaxing a little bit, Lena smiled. "Then there's just one last thing."  
  
Taking a deep breath and looking into his comically expectant eyes, Lena pulled   
him into a kiss.   
  
He pulled out of it a few seconds later, blinking bewilderedly. "What was that for?"  
  
"When I was a little girl, I read Little Women. Do you remember Amy? She always said she wanted to be kissed before she died. And so I promised myself that kiss someone before I died. Just in case… in case anything goes wrong, I wanted to make sure…"  
  
Bashir smiled. "Well, you needn't have worried, because nothing will go wrong. You're in perfectly good hands."  
  
Lena laid back on the bed. "Then I'm ready."  
  
  
*  
  
The operation took about three hours. After he'd anesthetised the patient, Bashir proceeded to open her skull. He ciphened some of the cerebrospinal fluid that filled the cavity where her frontal lobe should have been, calming his violently churning stomach at the vile sight. He checked her vitals before beginning the cerebral regeneration. He watched in satisfaction as the beam of light streaming from his surgical implement caused the cells in her brain to reproduce, the gray matter slowly but surely filling in the hole.   
  
What a wonder genetics had been for modern medicine, Bashir mused. From what he knew about cell specialization and what he'd found in Lena's brain cells, he'd been able to regrow a whole area of her body. Sure, they'd done it with limbs, they'd done it with skin, but never with a brain before. Then again, how often does someone need part of a brain regrown? He was really striding out into gray territory here.   
  
Bashir chuckled to himself. Focus, focus. Her lobe was almost completely regrown. Checking her vitals once again to make sure that her body wasn't rejecting the new cells, he reciphened the cerebrospinal fluid into her neural cavity. He turned off the instrument in satisfaction, her lobe completely regrown. He pulled the pieces of her skull back together, using the osoregenerator to loosely stitch the pieces in place. He then stretched her bald skin over her skull. He'd had to remove her hair for the operation, and he felt oddly sorry about that fact. Using the dermal regenerator, he then sealed up her scalp. Her vitals were still fine, her heart beating normally. As a final touch, Bashir pulled out his ciliar regenerator, regrowing Lena's hair to the length he estimated it had originally been. Satisfied, Bashir had nothing to do but to wait.  
  
  
*  
  
He awoke to the sound of tears. He ran to her bedside, shushing her softly. "Lena, Lena, what's the matter? Where does it hurt?"  
  
Lena looked up at him with red eyes, her expression twisted. She put her hand over her heart. "There."  
  
"Ah, but Lena!" Bashir felt hope leap inside of him. "It means the operation worked!"  
  
"Of course it did. Oh Julian, I should have died on that operating table."  
  
"No, no, no, no, no!" Bashir took her hand in his. "Lena, this is the beginning of a new life for you! What you did before… that wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it. But now all I want you to do is move on from that and build a new life."  
  
Sobbing bitterly, she replied, "I don't deserve a new life. I should have died, and maybe that would help to make up for all the lives I've taken."  
  
He took her head in his hands. "Lena, you more than anyone deserve a new life. I know these feelings of guilt are overwhelming, but we can work through this together." He kissed her softly, wiping away her tears. "I still care about you, Lena. I don't ever want you to feel this way." He held her sobbing body close, trying to pour some of his spirit into her.  
  
  
*  
  
Bashir beeped the door of Lena's quarters. It had been many months since the operation. Lena still had a little scar across her forehead, and many more emotional scars, but through Bashir and Counselor Jordan's help, she was healing.   
  
Lena answered him with a cheerful, "Come in!"  
  
Bashir appeared with a bouquet of flowers. "Hello, my dear," he smiled gallantly as he planted a kiss on her cheek. She blushed slightly. Bashir marvelled at the change in her: she'd gone from hardened criminal to childlike and shy woman. "And how is my patient doing today?"  
  
She looked at him seriously. "Better. Much better, thank you."  
  
He sat on her bed as he handed her the flowers. "Anything hurt today?"  
  
"Not now that you're here." She smiled. "This morning I did have a little breakdown, but now I feel much better." She sat next to him on the bed. "Thank you for giving me a new life. I don't know where it's leading, but I know what you risked to do this for me. It hurts, but it's worth it."  
  
He answered her with a kiss. "You're welcome."  
  



End file.
